


Dogs are Minor Angels

by BoxofButtons



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Puppies, Superhusbands, bot!feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxofButtons/pseuds/BoxofButtons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn’t sure why it tumbled out, they should talk to the others, consider it more, inform Pepper so she could tell them that this was a bad idea but Tony’s mouth just opened and started talking.</p><p>    "Alright then. You, me, get in the Audi right now. This is an adventure, potentially a magical one if Thor catches wind of this. We are finding you a dog if it kills me. If I have to I will have a hypo-allergenic puppy genetically engineered."</p><p> </p><p>Or: The One Where Tony and Steve Adopt A Child But Not A Human. Eventual Superhusbands </p><p>Lots of puppy cuteness, bot!feels and Tony being Tony. Rating may go up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arrafrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrafrost/gifts).



> This was both a cute idea from a 2:30 Omegle chat and my own dogs. I'm in college, I miss them like nothing else and have had them for nine and ten years. I still remember the day I got my own dog, the instant feeling that she was my dog and I was her human. So when my chat partner suggested that Tony liked dogs I rolled with it and suddenly there were Tony Feels. Tony Feels out the wazoo.
> 
> Also Arra wrote me feel-better!porn and I feel like I should return the favor (albeit via an ineptly executed attempt that is likely to get out of hand in regards to scale)
> 
> The title comes from this quote by Jonathan Carroll: “Dogs are minor angels, and I don't mean that facetiously. They love unconditionally, forgive immediately, are the truest of friends."

    Tony had done a lot of things in his life, buried his parents, been kidnapped, privatized world peace, watched his father figure rip the arc reactor from his chest, beaten down every villain he met, learned how to cook a damn good panini, started a bromance with the Hulk, saved Manhattan, moved back into his newly renovated childhood home with several superheroes as of four months ago, but he still was outmaneuvered by a helper-bot he built when he was a fucking teenager.  
  
    "Oh no. No-no-no-no-no. You are getting a coding upgrade. This isn't an option." His only response was Dummy whirring and speeding off again. Steve snickered behind him somewhere and Tony risked a critical second turning around to look at him. Captain America was sprawled on the half-sofa-half-cot in his workshop. The cool light played over his hair, his cheekbones, the sketchbook.  
  
Then Dummy picked him up by his belt and dropped him in a chair before running off again. Tony was unamused.  
  
    “Need some help?”  
  
    “Are you implying I can't catch my own robot Cap?” Tony shot back, words lacking any real bite as he vaulted a desk to block Dummy's escape. The bot gave a bewildered keen and reversed direction quickly.

"Nope. No implication.” Steve deadpanned as he observed “Looks like you're doing just fine. You meant to get hung upside down by your belt, I know. All part of the plan." Okay, fine, if Tony heard those last words strangle a little bit as Steve tried to choke down laughter he doesn’t complain. He would be laughing too if he wasn’t busy diving for Dummy, hoping to hold the damn robot arm still. It didn’t work, evidenced by the floor he was dragged along, yelling all the way.

"Why can't you behave? Why can't you be more like JARVIS? Or You, or Butterfingers? They don't do this! I will make You and Butterfingers look like Daleks on halloween and you'll be without a costume." Nope. Still moving. And he just knew Steve was still smiling.  
  
Dammit, he needed to control that little man-crush of his. Steve had come into his life all tall and blond and earnest just like how he had imagined as a horny teenager. Ever since he fell out of the freezer and into his life Tony was more and more in the unpleasant situation of feeling things. Feelings gave Tony hives. Sarcasam didn't.

 

"You were the one who built him. Maybe he just wants to be like dad."

  
    “Well now.” he snarked at the blond “Stop hanging out with Rhodey, he's making you understand sarcasm and it frightens me.” Dummy, meanwhile, sped off and was now hiding behind the Porsche Tony bought Clint for Christmas. Aching, already acquainted with the floor today and just too tired for this shit, Tony threw his hands in the air and heaved a sigh. “Fine! You win brat. I admit that I have been outsmarted by a rouge calculator.” he trudged over to the sofa and fell onto the unoccupied part of it face-first.

  
   “Tricked by my bots, pranked by a short version of Legolas via decaf coffee, lab invaded by America's Golden boy. Great.” He tossed a lazy thumbs up in Steve's general direction. Tony had lost all dignity. Who cares how much of his ass was in Steve's line of sight?  

  
   "You lead a very terrible life, don't you?" Steve sympathized - no sarcasm there that Tony could detect, not at all, no sir - and clapped a hand conspiratorially on Tony's shoulder. "And really, America's Golden Boy?" That drew a snort of laughter.

  
   "Yes. You're king of the boy-scouts, broad shouldered, blue eyed, earnest, red-blooded American." Tony ignored the heat radiating from Steve's hand, the way it contrasted the cool air of the lab, how it was soothing an ache he's had in the muscle for days. Or tried at least.  
  
Well. Pretended to try.  
  
And there it was, that faintest movement, when Tony shifted his shoulder upward just a fraction of an inch so that it's pressed flush against the loose curve of Steve's palm. Moments like that let him pretend that maybe Steve was a good enough friend by then that he wouldn't hate Tony when he eventually found out. But god when Steve's hand slid off his shoulder the ache came back.  
  
   "I never got a crown," Steve says with a small smile that Tony had to return with a full on beam.  
  
   "JARVIS, requisition a crown would you?"  
  
   "Metal or a paper crown, sir?"  
  
   "Plastic,and get us some gold star stickers and request a white picket fence around the mansion. We're installing the new king of America, we need to class it up." Tony demanded just before Steve started to laugh his ass off. The smaller man had to beat down a flush at the sight, his lips parted and hair a bit messier than usual, shirt untucked for once, eyes shut as he laughed-  
  
No Tony, no. Bad. Steve is your teammate, your friend, even if he DID swing that way even REMOTELY and then magically agreed to date Tony it'd just end up like Pepper. Handled with a quiet and professional dignity until he came down to the lab, spending about two days telling JARVIS _“Not a soul shall know of this. Not even Coulson_ ” while crying into a tub of mint icecream and watching Wall-E on a loop. He kinda ruined everything, in his experience. He refused to ruin what he and Steve had for an unknown variable like dating, not if a breakup meant that the woman who knew him best took a month to really _**talk**_ to him again.  
  
   "JARVIS, I think I deserve a moat. I'm a king, after all. Can we have a moat?" Steve adds between short breaths. These days he doesn't tie down the grin, just lets it curl over his lips and doesn't hide it, not like before when he was uncomfortable and temporally displaced and still called Rogers. That smile was like ambrosia to the brunette, warm and satisfying and just so damn good to see. It meant that Steve liked to goof off with him. Goofing off was better than being all witty and smug anyhow, a lot less lonely.  
  
   "No moats, maybe a fishtank." Steve giggled as Tony sat up next to him, his own silly grin in place. Huh, not a no on the fishtank though.  
  
When he bothered to trace his thoughts Tony knew his mind would jump around like a frog on crack, leading to outsider confusion unless it was explained. Point A: Tony felt that fish were okay but were dumber than hubcaps. Point B: He liked things that breathe air and can think way better than fish. Point C: Tony had a dog when he was a kid. So it honestly wasn't that big of a stretch to go from fish to Point D: the idea of getting Steve a puppy. Next thing he knew he was blurting "Hey Rogers, what do you think of the Avengers getting a mascot? Maybe a Golden Retriever?" because that kinda happens.  
  
    The look he gives Tony is the look, the leap-of-logic look, the how'd-we-get-from-Boy-Scout-Kings-to-fishtanks-to-Golden-Retrievers look. "What? You...a dog? A team dog?" Tony shrugs and just rolls with it.  
  
   "I like dogs. Loyal, always willing to be there for you, happy to see you no matter what, I just never got one because I was kinda afraid I'd get kidnapped for three months agai-" he stopped talking because s _hut UP brain._ "But yeah, a dog." Tony mentally kicked himself. That was dark. "I just think that maybe it'd be something we all could have, help give some mutt a home rather than just blow things up. Thoughts?"  
  
   "Sure. Yeah, why not?" Steve managed after a slightly longer beat of silence than he'd hoped. "Never had one, myself." Steve was worried. Tony can tell from his smile (it's off), his tone (like when he tries to coax kids from where they're hiding when they get caught in the middle of dangerous areas). But it's not pity. Good, Tony hates pity. Then the content of the words hit him and he made himself shove all of that away because he **what**?  
  
   "You never had a dog?" He blinked "You lost your royal title. No crown. A dog is part of the American dream and you have let your subjects down." Tony smiled. He's good at doing that. It's familiar, a little forced but until a few months ago a lot of things in his life were forced. He owes it to Steve to smile and reassure him.  
  
   "I doubt my subjects would've thought I was fulfilling the role of mighty broad-shouldered king so well when I was all red-faced and puffy, wheezing like a punctured accordion. Not very regal," Steve's eyes softened to something genuinely fond now and Tony could breathe easy again. "I'm allergic. Was allergic, maybe." Right. Steve wasn't born this way. Tony forgets sometimes that Steve is a hero who was once a scrawny sickly kid from this very city. He wasn’t sure why it tumbled out, they should talk to the others, consider it more, inform Pepper so she could tell them that this was a bad idea but Tony’s mouth just opened and started talking.  
  
   "Alright then. You, me, get in the Audi right now. This is an adventure, potentially a magical one if Thor catches wind of this. We are finding you a dog if it kills me. If I have to I will have a hypo-allergenic puppy genetically engineered." He would too.  
  
   "You mean now?  Is that a...I mean, those...hypoallergenic? What's that... doesn’t it mean non-allergy-triggering?" Steve asked even as he followed after Tony, face posed in the traditional confused look that meant someone has been caught up in the eternal whirlwind that is being his friend. He can't help but smile at the thought that Steve was his friend, symptoms and all (also Tony finds it a bit ridiculous that Steve actually almost had to jog to keep up). However Steve looks excited too, like christmas came early this year. That settled it. They needed a dog now.  
  
   “All in due time.” he promised as he got into the Audi, his grin huge. “To the pound!” Steve didn’t even roll his eyes as he hopped into the passenger’s seat. Just strapped in and held on as Tony peeled out of the basement level garage.  
  
Tony hadn't realized how much he wanted a dog until now, when he was thinking about it and wanting one and seeing other dogs as they drove. Way back when, he had loved having something real and alive and not programmed to be something even if it developed on it's own later into a quirky bag of bolts. It was the one thing he and his dad had ever bonded over the one thing that loved him unconditionally after the funeral, the one thing he had truly felt lost without when a car took HIM too.  
  
    " _God."_ Tony thought, putting on enough speed to make the tires screech down Bruckner Boulevard _"Dog first, then therapy. Lots of it."_


	2. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Tony can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated, I finished college finals and have been recovering at home. But here's the next chapter.

Tony despises pounds (oh, he's sorry, shelters), hates the dimness in the hallways and the way someone leads you in and out like they're guarding you; hates the din of the animals who want attention and sun and freedom.

Thankfully JARVIS chose their end destination well, it's got windows and warm lighting. The cages are more like pens, and are open right now. That allows the “Adopt-a-thon Saturday” guests to greet the wagging, purring and estatic masses in their respective hallways or pens. The hallways have an exit to a small but well maintained grassy yard. Jesus, a real yard, those exist.

Tony would remember that all later, the surroundings, the people the sounds and signs of life, all of it would be stored and filed away to be recalled with perfect clarity; in that moment he was focused on **him**. Golden haired and eager, staring up at him from where he sat on the floor with something akin to worship. Tony just barely processed the fact that he had gone weak at the knees.  
  
A beautiful mutt, a little too old to be a puppy anymore but still under a year, thumping tail and quiet, not barking or making noise beyond panting, past his chewing phase and should get fairly big, maybe up to 50 pounds. He was perfect.

This was the one.

          "Steve.” Tony called as he sat down on the dirty floor, ignoring the fact that his suit cost more than some cars, “Steve come see this."

Tony knew that, for his part, Steve was trying very carefully to walk through a tumbling ball of fluff that was, as far as he could make out, five different little sausage-sized puppies working as a single wiggling, yapping, pawing unit of unmitigated joy and he had not yet descended into a supersoldier-sized mess of asthma-inducing allergies, which was, he thought, a pretty damn good sign, all things considered. A moment later Steve is next to him and after hesitating he crouches down, his hand palm-up for the dog to sniff.

The furball further proved his perfection by skipping any preliminary sniffing and wariness in favor of tackling Steve with an enthusiasm as of yet unseen on this earth.

“We need to teach him to do that to Coulson, no buts.” He wasn't imagining that particular comedic gem though, he was busy watching Steve's face, hoping he felt it too, that this one was perfectly suited to life in the mansion. Clint already loves dogs as is and Bruce stops to pet every one he sees. Tasha would train him to be a deadly warrior only weak to belly rubs and he knew that Thor...

 

God, Thor would never stop playing fetch with him. Tony needed that, he needed this one with the big paws and eager attitude. “Oh please let Steve want him too.” His worries were unwarranted however, Tony felt his grin nearly split his face when the baby-talk began to fall from Cap's lips.  
  
          "Ha! Like that, don't you, big guy, that feels goooood, doesn't it? Dooooesn't it? Who's a good boy, who's getting all those itches, huh? Who wants to come home, who? YOU do! You want to come home with us? Yeah?"

He was right, utterly right, about the ‘big guy’. They needed this dog today. Not tomorrow, not next week, today. Tony wanted to come upstairs and see this scene every day for the rest of his life. It's not just Steve who seems so happy, the dog is on the verge of manic joy.

Tony loves it when Steve is just Steve, not Cap, not Rogers, just a man making an ass of himself rolling around on the floor babbling to this dog as if it's a very slow kind of human toddler. This is amazing, the way he lets go and just lives in the moment sometimes. He looks so alive now, so openly and honestly joyful that Tony could just up and kiss him.

This is his Steve who sits up watching bad movies with him and drags him out of his self-pity in favor of living. Steve who has been to war, unprepared beyond his own willpower, just like he has and has watched someone dear to him die because the whole world hates them sometimes.

 

God dammit.

 

Of all places to realize you are actually madly in love with someone (rather than proclaiming undying love for whoever hands you coffee in the morning) this has to be at least in the top twenty of most benign. His life has become as morally harmless as _“Mister Rogers' Neighborhood”_ thanks to Winghead who was on his ass, laughing and mumbling a bunch of affectionate, encouraging nonsense at the dog.

The logical response is to just suck it up and ignore that emotional minefield for right now and focus on the current moment, the patented “Stark Family Coping Method” for sentiment, a tried and true classic.

         "So” Tony smiled, genuinely smiled, as he started to talk “What should we call the 'big guy' then? I'm thinking something science-y. Like Issac Newton or Jamie Hyneman. At least we should name him before Clint hears about this and trains him to respond to something horrible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, WHO WANTS TO NAME THE DOG? Post a comment or send me a note if you have a suggestion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a name! Thanks to "phenom-anon" who suggested "Koba".
> 
> There were a lot of great submissions but Koba seemed to be the perfect name. Ziro Koba and Holger Bech Nielsen studied the Veneziano scattering amplitude and generalized it to an N-particle amplitude. This has been your daily dose of SCIENCE.

"How about Koba?" Steve suggests, expression shifting subtly, taking on something intangible that looks something like mischief. Tony wonders if he's expecting brownie points for the reference, since Tony is always all about getting the reference. But that means that Captain America maybe, just perhaps, has done some reading up on particle physics and string theory. For reasons unknown sure, but Tony can pretend he had a hand in it. Honestly, as much as he may tease the guy Tony is sure Steve got some of the info. He's not stupid, just out of date. He's in fact a quick study, but he's got seventy years of culture and music and science and life to catch up on, and it boggles the mind that Cap is moving as fast as he is.

"Koba.” he tries, letting the syllables roll around on his tongue, testing them. It feels right. “Sure you don't want to name him after Nambu or Susskind?" He was only joking about that though. Koba was so his name now, Tony didn't bother to really think of another name at all. "Didn't think string theory was your thing boyscout." This train of thought throws him into a whole new wave of evil plotting. Steve may just be a potential nerd he could sway to the dark side. He had seemed more interested in the arts and literature and things Tony found less interesting than creating new things most folks only dreamed of.

Urg. He said 'folks' in his own head. Steve was a rotten influence. But he was also so eager to learn and explore this alien world and Tony could never fault anyone for curiosity. In fact he even sneakily had Jarvis guide him when he braved the wilds of the internet on his own. Their precious sleeping beauty was too delicate for 4chan. However Koba decided thinking about Cap's academic interests was bad, cuddles were good. The huge fluff-ball tackled Tony eagerly as if he knew they had already chosen him to keep.

"Steve we have to adopt him now. As in this very instant." Tony couldn't recall wanting anything so badly since he was a kid in his comic books phase. "I'm sleeping here if he doesn't come home today and just think how sad Dummy would be without his upgrade." He sat up under the hurricane of fluff, head at the same height as Koba's, and just stared at Steve with the dog. He knew Steve was not strong with the force when he (or anyone else really) did the lip-wibble at him. Too nice.

"I'll walk him and feed him and I will sleep like a normal person if he can sleep on my bed with me."

Oh man he was going to spoil this dog. Best dog bed ever, finest toys, hand crafted food, whatever. Koba was about to get a culture shock for the better and unlike Steve or Bruce he wouldn't bitch about how much it cost. He’d just ruin fancy things and tony could buy fancy things to replace the ruined ones, a cycle of spoiling.

Back to making puppy dog eyes at Cap.

 

"Yeah, this should go well. You can't even feed yourself, Stark," Steve teased, as he stood and shook his head, smiling, even laughing a little as he watched Tony wrestle around with the dog. That was when Tony knew he had won. Steve had been smitten from the second he first knelt down to pet him. "But I'm going to hold you to it." At that, Koba turned his attention to Tony, smothering him with a fresh round of eager licks. "He can even sleep with you; he'd be a better bedfellow by a long shot than some of the trash I've seen you bring home. But, I don't want to hear a word about it when you wind up with fleas."

With that, Steve stepped past Tony, but not before reaching down to squeeze his shoulder lightly, and headed back, likely up to the front office to request paperwork.

"They prefer the term golddiggers I'm told!" Tony shouted after Steve before returning his gaze to Koba. "Hey boy, I'm your dad, how's it going? You excited to come home with us? Are you excited I'm going to buy out a petsmart for you if I have to? Yes you are. Are you going to give me fleas? Nooooo." he ruffled the dog's fur and grinned. "You'll just have to give Steve all your fleas. But don’t get caught or you’ll get a flea-bath." Because his mind was predictable, Tony's mind turned from giving the dog a bath to giving Steve a bath, tracing his scars.

Tony buried his face in Koba's fur to banish the image, breathing in an organic scent that was sunshine and grass and just dog. He would bet the Maserati (and he never bet the Maserati if he could possibly lose) that Steve was getting the paperwork ready for signature, so he had time to sit and remember. His first dog, Tesla, had been a keeshond so there was one big difference. Yet Koba was continuing the legacy by being sweet to a fault. Time would tell if he was the same sort of dog as Tesla, his brave little dog who stood with Tony when his dad was gone on business, or in the lab, or fighting with mom. He'd been soft, been Tony's solace, known all his secrets since he was ten. Maybe this guy could be like that for all the Avengers.

Hell, he wished he could be the warm and lovable one, able to be told anything by anyone. By Steve or Bruce or Clint. So Koba would have to fill that job, starting now. Tony stood up at the thought, and moved towards the lobby and offices as if on autopilot. Then came the whine behind him.

Koba was sitting up, eyes wide and brown and somehow Tony knew he had to be worried, that he'd been lonely here. He didn't want to be left alone for a moment, even with the adopt-a-thon attendant and the small family cooing over a Great Dane in the room on the far end.

"Come on then." Tony huffed, lips quirked in a smile. His dog gave a short bark and jumped up, bolting to his side. Together they wandered out to the lobby and off to find Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not live in New York so let me know if I fuck anything up.
> 
>  
> 
> Also butts.


End file.
